


Simon Versus Costumes and Kinks

by runrarebit



Series: Misfits Moments [23]
Category: Misfits (TV 2009)
Genre: AU, Alternate Timeline, Bottom!Nathan, Costume Kink, Crossdressing, Dark!Simon, I didn't get around to armpits, Intergluteal Sex, M/M, Pervert!Simon, Rimming, Simon isn't handling Nathan dying all the time that well, Simon likes Nathan's hairy arse crack, Smut, also a tiny bit of angst, mention of watersports, pubic hair kink I guess, sexy superheroes, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 02:58:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19076098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runrarebit/pseuds/runrarebit
Summary: Set duringDaddy Issues, so after S02E05- it's basically smut with Nathan in the sexy superhero costume.





	Simon Versus Costumes and Kinks

**Author's Note:**

> So, I didn't really get around to addressing the whole "Simon wanting to rub his cock in Alisha's hairy armpit" thing in this series, but, you know me and my feelings about the writers backpedaling on his characterization- so here, instead, is Simon getting all excited about Nathan's hairy arse crack. Not quite the same, but similar. 
> 
> I hope you all had a good weekend, and thank you all for reading, and for the comments and the kudos!

The costume really is skin tight, revealing every dip and bump of his boyfriend’s exquisite body. He can see the line of clavicles, the dip of shoulders, the little peak of his nipples, the rolling hills of his ribs, the arc of their end, the crest of his pelvis, the pit of bellybutton, the obscene bulge of cock and balls— everything down to the more concealing mock-suede shoulder-length gloves and knee-high boots. It’s a deranged, erotic fever-dream that Nathan would wear something like this— it’s like being a kid and having his cock stiffen up from Rogue in the old X-Men cartoon— or something from one of his comics. Emma Frost in her winter white bondage gear.

Even now he’s amazed at himself being ok with Nathan going to the dance in this costume, but he’d just been so flabbergasted, so stunned stupid with arousal— not that he could have stopped his boyfriend— but jealousy— Or is it jealousy? While he does get angry he’s never really angry with _Nathan_ for it, never feels like he has to punish his boyfriend for it, never feels like Nathan’s about to go cheat on him, has any interest in whoever he’s showing off for— it’s just— Nathan is _his_ and he hates others even looking at the man. Maybe _possessiveness_ is a better word. He doesn’t want even an _image_ of his boyfriend’s beauty in any mind other than his own. Greedy. He’s greedy. 

It sometimes drives him mad that Nathan seems to so much enjoy teasing other people with the combination of his looks, his sex appeal, and the idea that no one other than _him_ is allowed to touch— and then, if he does show possessiveness, instead of being put-off Nathan seems to find it delightful. Arousing. 

He reaches out, carefully, placing a hand on either side of his boyfriend’s slender waist. Nathan’s body warmth seeps straight through the costume and into his flesh. ‘Do you still like it?’ the man asks, almost shy.

‘You look amazing,’ he replies, rubbing his hands back and forth over the shiny material, feeling the way it sticks to his skin, almost squeaking.

A pleased little smirk appears on those full lips. ‘Do you want to fuck me in it?’ 

He moans at the idea, though he’s pretty sure that’s what they were both thinking when Nathan suggested he try on the costume again. He’s still not good about letting Nathan out of his sight inside the Community Centre— even though he knows the man last man who murdered his boyfriend is behind bars and awaiting trial— so he’d come with Nathan to the bathrooms, lurking outside while Nathan got changed, the two of them chatting the entire time so he’d know the moment if something happened— then Nathan had emerged and—

‘We should go up to your bed,’ he manages, pulling Nathan into his arms. They kiss for a little bit, his hands roaming, touching, feeling, squeezing at the way the costume clings to his boyfriend’s spare yet curvy frame. Nathan is shockingly attractive, and that’s when he isn’t wearing skin-tight spandex— or whatever this fabric is.

‘That is an excellent idea Barry,’ Nathan pulls back to say, then gives him a heated look and starts off towards their destination, the boots making his hips sway with every step— still a little awkward, but better on them than last time. His legs, his arse, the shape of his back— the curve of them is all exaggerated by the height of the heels— still modest, less than ten centimetres— it’s not like they’re towering, platform stripper heels.

He lingers back just enough to watch Nathan wiggle as he walks, even though it feels like the skin of his palms is hungry to touch— he’s lucky. He’s so lucky—

Lucky Nathan forgave him for being a prick after he’d found his boyfriend dead the most recent time. He gets sick with it, sometimes, the worry. In the last few weeks Nathan has been impaled, shot in the head, beaten to death— worse yet there were those few unwitting hours when his boyfriend was _mortal_ —He knows now that unless he takes E Nathan isn’t going to actually _die_ if he’s killed, but he can’t shake the feelings brought about when Lucy murdered him— every time it’s like the first time. Every time there is a moment, at least, when he doesn’t think Nathan’s coming back— And beyond that, he _hates_ it. Hates the fact that people seem to feel they can just hurt his boyfriend, kill his boyfriend, treat his boyfriend like a disposable object— and he knows that dying _hurts._

Nathan hasn’t outright said what it feels like, but he’s hinted at it— and there’s the way he is after. Tired, shaky, weak— moving like even breathing is almost as painful as he can bear. And he gets _really_ cuddly, and that’s saying something, considering how cuddly Nathan usually is. And he seems to need even more reassurance than normal— He should have remembered all of that. Should have remembered that he loves Nathan, cherishes him, values him— he should have treated Nathan’s body as it deserves, washed it, changed it into something comfortable, laid it reverentially down on the bed for him to wait for the man to wake up again—

Instead he’d lost his temper and ended up upsetting his boyfriend. 

It was just so soon after that bastard— Tim, he’s learned from the papers— shot his boyfriend in the head like that, while he was helpless. Couldn’t stop the man— he’d had Nathan’s blood, his brain splattered all over him— it still makes him feel sick. Sometimes he catches himself fantasising about what he’ll do to the man if he ever gets out of prison— He won’t make it painful, won’t draw it out— he has no interest in torturing the bastard— he just feels this visceral _need_ to dispose of him. Get rid of him. Remove him from this planet in case he ever tries what he did to Nathan again.

It’s the same with Jessica’s dad— he’d seen her after, upset, looking so fragile— and he couldn’t stand to even go over and try and offer her some reassurance. He’s just so _furious_ — the thought of Nathan lying like that, broken like that, alone like that for hours— the _callousness_ of it all— he was even kind of angry at the Nathan himself, his own boyfriend, for a bit when Nathan stopped him from killing his most recent murderer when he had a chance— but he gets it. At least he thinks he does. Nathan didn’t want him getting caught in the act— and the thought of what might happen if he went to prison, Nathan alone out here, no one to protect him, avenge him next time someone murders him— it’s enough to drive him insane. He’ll have to be more careful in the future. Make things look like accidents—

He doesn’t think he left any evidence behind when he went invisible and broke into Vince’s Tattoos— but then all he did was wreck all the man’s equipment, it’s not like he actually _killed_ him. He’d kind of wanted to, but he’d told himself that Vince didn’t actually _kill_ Nathan, that it wouldn’t be justice— It’s just that he couldn’t let it go, after— how easy it had been for the selfish prick to ruin what they have, to make Nathan stop loving him. 

‘Barry?’ Nathan’s voice brings him out of his downward spiral. They’re at the stairs, his boyfriend looking at him in concern. ‘Is something wrong? Do you not want to—?’

‘No! Of course I do, I was just—’ he doesn’t really want to say he was just thinking about losing Nathan. He doesn’t seem to need to though, his boyfriend gets this look on his face, strange, kind of soft, and then Nathan’s kissing him again. 

They separate to climb the stairs, Nathan going ahead so he can stare in rapture at his boyfriend’s arse in the clingy fabric. ‘Why don’t you get your kit off,’ the Irishman suggests, lounging out on the shitty mattress, still fully dressed in the costume, ‘I’ll just lie here looking sexy and shrink-wrapped.’

It’s an excellent suggestion, and one he’s happy to follow, stripping as quickly as he can, frustrated in the moments when he’s dragging his shirt and vest over his head and they block his view. Once he’s naked he grabs for the lube, dumping it on the mattress, before sinking to his knees by Nathan’s boot-clad feet. ‘How do you want to do this?’ his boyfriend asks, hazel eyes fixed on his cock, bottom lip being sucked in between his teeth. ‘Do you want to just rub your cock all over me until you come, or do you want to try and get this thing open enough you can get your cock in me?’

He glances over the costume, taking in the high neckline and smooth front— the sight of his boyfriend’s cock getting hard and pressing against the thin fabric— ‘Where’s the zipper?’

‘In the back,’ Nathan replies with a little shimmy and a wiggle of his brows. 

He reaches out, palming the Irishman’s cock and giving it a gentle squeeze, making Nathan shiver and buck his hips, his legs splaying out in invitation. ‘You are so sexy,’ he breathes. 

‘So are you Barry,’ Nathan purrs, ‘My handsome, sexy, massive-cocked gentleman of a boyfriend. If you don’t want to put it in me then bring it over here, let me touch it.’

‘I do,’ he protests, face wrinkling up— ‘We do have to return the costume, don’t we?’

‘Why?’ Nathan asks, an interested smirk on his face.

He feels his face flush even redder. ‘It’s just— we could cut a hole—’

Nathan giggles. ‘How about next time? Let’s see what we can manage this time without permanently wrecking it. How about I turn over, let you unzip me?’

Nathan does so, presenting the long line of his back, the flare of shoulder blades, the swell of that lovely arse. He can’t help himself, he reaches out, running his hands from the small of Nathan’s back up to his shoulders and down again, feeling the shape of him, the beat of his heart, the warmth of his body. His boyfriend wriggles encouragingly at the touch, back arching, hips swaying backwards— Fuck he’s sexy. 

His fingers are actually shaking as he reaches for the zipper, fumbling with it for a moment, before he starts to drag it down, revealing an ever-increasing slice of that lovely— and a little spotty in a couple of places— back. His other hand goes up, trailing knuckles down the line of Nathan’s spine— ‘Fuck, Barry,’ his boyfriend breathes out, want in his voice. 

The zipper stops at the small of Nathan’s back. He grabs at the opening in the fabric, dragging at it, trying to see how far he can stretch it, whether he can expand the gap until his boyfriend’s entire arse is sticking out— wait. He lets go of the costume, fingers worming beneath to stroke over slinky back fabric. Those are not briefs. ‘Are you wearing girls’ knickers?’ he bleats out.

‘Mm hmm,’ Nathan murmurs, sounding just a little nervous. ‘What do you think of them?’

‘I want to see them,’ is all he can think to say, manhandling Nathan back over onto his back and pulling at the costume, glad the fabric is stretchy enough that he can drag the opening at the back around to the front, then pull it enough away from Nathan’s body that he can peer down and see— They aren’t exactly _sexy_ knickers, plain, black, quite big, but the _idea_ of them, the way they cling to the shape of his boyfriend’s cock and balls, little tufts of pubic hair escaping around the top and leg holes— so sexy. So stupidly sexy.

‘I should probably shave first next time,’ his boyfriend is saying, ‘It looks a bit stupid with my pubes sticking out everywhere, doesn’t it?’

‘No!’ he yelps, panicked grey eyes darting up to meet hazel ones. ‘Don’t shave. _Please_ don’t shave.’

Nathan blinks at him. ‘You like my pubes?’

He nods, feeling kind of stupid and embarrassed. If porn’s taught him one thing it’s that most people seem to find pubic hair a turn-off instead of the direct opposite. ‘I like it. It’s grown-up, intimate— sexy,’ he manages to make himself mutter. ‘Really sexy. I really don’t know why— Do you think that’s gross?’ He hopes Nathan isn’t disgusted. 

‘Of course not,’ Nathan replies, looking at him dark-eyed. ‘If I think about it you’d look funny with a bald cock—’ which is some reassurance, though he suspects Nathan is more indifferent about the matter than having something like his— _preferences._ There is a pause, then Nathan asks, voice syrupy, ‘Do you like my hairy arse crack too?’

He shudders, bleats out, ‘Yes.’

‘Do you want to rub your cock all over it? Hump it until you come? Shoot your spunk all over it? Get the outside of my hole all sticky? Gum up all the hair there?’ 

He makes an utterly incoherent noise in response. It’s not like they haven’t done that in the past— but the way Nathan describes it—

‘I’ll take that as a yes,’ Nathan coos, pulling away to turn back over, struggling with the costume, getting it down only for it to ride up again, dragging red marks into his skin. His boyfriend sighs, ‘I’m going to have to take off the top half, is that ok?’

‘Anything,’ is all he manages to say, feeling turned on and stupid, cock throbbing. 

He helps steady Nathan as his boyfriend kneels up, stripping the top half of the costume off as fast as he can and leaning forward, before pausing— ‘Wait, I’ll just—’ the Irishman strips the shoulder length gloves off the floppy arms of the costume, shakes them until they’re no longer inside out, then pulls them back on. ‘There, it’s almost like I’m wearing it properly.’

He pulls Nathan back into his arms, presses a kiss to the side of his boyfriend’s neck. He knows this whole costume thing is more about him than his boyfriend— not that Nathan isn’t enjoying the positive attention, but he very much doubts the man has ever considered getting dressed up like a sexy superhero for someone before this. 

His boyfriend twists in his arms, catching his lips in a kiss. He slips his tongue into the Irishman’s mouth at the same time as his hands go to his boyfriend’s hips, grabbing at the costume and the knickers and easing them down until they come to rest beneath the swell of Nathan’s arse. 

He palms at his boyfriend’s cock, hard, bobbing with their movements, grabbing it and wanking it until Nathan reaches down and catches his wrist. ‘Come on Barry, I thought you were going to fuck my hairy arse crack.’

On one level it’s kind of embarrassing, but on the other— he groans, hips thrusting reflexively so his cock skids against the bundled fabric beneath Nathan’s arse. Nathan chuckles, deep and amused, then pulls gently out of his grip and leans forward until he’s on hands and knees, tilting his pelvis and exaggerating the sway of his back, making his posture— _receptive._ He then shakes his hips, wiggling his arse, ‘Come on then.’

He can see Nathan’s anus, swollen and a little red from the lunch time shag. He rubs a finger over it, feeling the heat there and enjoying the way it makes his boyfriend twitch and sigh. ‘You do that and I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself begging you to fuck me,’ Nathan warns.

He kind of wants to now, wants to put his mouth there too, he _loves_ eating his boyfriend’s arse, more than he’s ever suspected he might. Rimming’s always looked hot in porn, but he’d never thought he’d be able to get past the psychological barrier of the primary purpose of that particular orifice to actually want to put his mouth on it— he’s sure his mouth is watering, the feel and the taste of Nathan there skittering around in his mind and distracting him.

Nathan must sense his hesitation in the face of a multitude of temptations, because the Irishman grabs the lube, pops open the bottle, and squirts a great glorp of the stuff down his own arse crack, shivering as he does so. The bottle lands beside them. Nathan wiggles again, all slick and shiny enticement. 

He stutters forward, hips bumping against his boyfriend’s arse, cock slotting between those lovely cheeks. ‘That’s it,’ Nathan sighs as he starts to thrust, riding the lube slick furrow. It feels good. He can feel the hair there— rubbing against his cock. He moans, helpless, and hunches over his boyfriend’s back, mouthing at the knob at the top of Nathan’s spine.

His hands paw at his boyfriend, silky skin, the slick and sticky feeling of the fabric still covering his legs, the weird velvetiness of gloves and boots. ‘You’re gorgeous,’ he breathes, ‘so beautiful, so pretty, you look so sexy like this—’ the praise makes Nathan sigh and mewl, spine arching further, hips bumping back, until the strength seems to leave him and he folds over, face down on the mattress, arse still in the air. 

He keeps up the praise as one of his hands slides up Nathan’s back, feeling him, petting him, luxuriating in the feel of his body, as his hips snap forward, faster and faster, cock rubbing over his boyfriend’s anus in a way that’s making the man mewl. He should probably— he should probably— his thoughts are going, scattering, mind in the moment, in the pleasure of it all. He squeezes at Nathan’s shoulder, at his side, hand going around and squeezing a handful of the spare flesh of his pec— his boyfriend’s hips jump back at that, a whine escaping those plump lips. He does it again, feels the same response— excitement building.

So far Nathan hasn’t shown much interest in having his nipples played with, he doesn’t object, but he doesn’t sigh or mewl or moan of give any sign that they’re a particular source of pleasure for him— which is a little disappointing, as they are very pretty, and he likes smearing them with his spunk or pissing on them, and he always thought the idea of someone who could get off just from having their nipples stimulated was highly erotic— he squeezes at Nathan’s chest again, this time pulling a squeak from his boyfriend— but this is promising. He’s not sure what this is. But it’s promising. 

He keeps squeezing and Nathan keeps responding, hips dancing every time he does so, the noises his boyfriend makes quickly stifled when Nathan shoves the first two fingers of his right hand in his mouth and starts sucking on them. He’s getting close, almost there— He imagines it, his spunk squirting white across all that fine, dark hair, across Nathan’s anus—

‘Fuck, I love you,’ he breathes out as his hips stutter forward, cock grinding in place as spurt after spurt of spunk squirts out of him, painting Nathan’s crack, slicking the space between them. Nathan shudders beneath him, mewling around those fingers, but not coming.

He slumps forward, lets himself rest against his boyfriend’s back through the aftershocks, before pulling away, looking down at the mess he’s made. It’s everything he imagined. His spunk slicked through the hair between Nathan’s cheeks, painting his hole— he groans at the sight of it, the way it’s twitching, the way Nathan’s hips keep thrusting back, just a little, his boyfriend’s body the image of want. 

And lower, the costume still on his legs, the knee-high boots—

He shifts back, dragging a hand down Nathan’s crack and wiping away some of the spunk, sliming it onto the sheets before he leans down, closes his mouth over his boyfriend’s swollen hole. He can taste his own spunk— it’s not a taste he likes that much, not just _his,_ but Nathan’s too— he doesn’t mind it so much that he won’t let it get in his mouth, that it’s a turn off, but he doesn’t find it anywhere near as exciting to taste it as his boyfriend does— mind you, he’s more than happy to lick his own out of his boyfriend’s arse and then feed it to Nathan, because it’s hot and sexy and they both _love_ it. 

Nathan mewls and shudders as he gets to work, sucking on the heat of him, lapping at it, tongue sliding across his crack, down to the back of his balls, before firming it into a point and starting to fuck it _in._ His still slightly sticky hand he brings around to Nathan’s front, palming at his cock, his balls, grabbing at him and wanking him, feeling the way his hips jump between mouth and hand— his boyfriend is close, he can feel it in the fine quivers of his body, the tension of his muscles, the desperate spasms of his anus. 

Shifting all his weight onto his knees, legs, tensing core muscles to keep his balance, he brings his other hand up, manages awkwardly to get it between them, pulling away to wet his first two fingers with spit, before returning his mouth to where it’s needed, a finger there, two, pushing them both in as he laps around them—

Nathan wails, body spasming, hips grinding back, cock spilling—

He’s gentle as he helps Nathan strip off the spunk stained costume, pressing kisses to each centimetre of skin he exposes, all the way down those long, lovely legs, before crawling up the bed and pulling his boyfriend into his arms for a nap. ‘Was it good?’ Nathan breathes into the space between them as he’s drifting off to sleep.

He squeezes the man close, ‘Always.’


End file.
